4E 201: A Dish Served Cold
by selkieskins
Summary: The Champion of Cyrodiil finds herself in Skyrim, seeking revenge for the death of a loved one at the hands of the Thalmor, and finding something else besides.
1. Prologue: A Letter

_Dearest Anni,_

_I hope this letter finds you, although I don't know exactly where you are right now. I have had a hard time tracking down someone who might know, but I feel the news I have for you is very important, and you must read it as soon as is possible._

_It's hard to believe that we haven't seen each other for almost a hundred and fifty years, but I understand why. Perhaps you could come and visit now, though. After all, things have changed so much! I married a man from High Rock, a merchant who sells the finest clothes to lords and ladies. We don't have as much money as you and I grew up with, but we live comfortably enough in a beautiful house above the shop, which is called The Wayrest Wardrobe. I keep myself busy by enchanting jewellery; there's a necklace I do with a personality charm on it that sells very well - all the ladies want one!_

_And here's something you thought you'd never live to see: I had a baby! Your little wild-child sister has had a little boy called Annithion - I named him after you. It's not the life I envisioned for myself as a child, but in many ways it's better. I only wish you were here to share it, not living in those dreadful ruins - if you're still doing that, that is._

_Anyway, I wrote this letter with a purpose. Annithion has shown some magical talent, and even though he is only fifteen and not anywhere near ready to leave home, I decided to travel to Winterhold to look at the college there. My husband doesn't like the idea of him being so far from home, but I have heard that the school is very focused on study and not at all tied up with politics, which is the main problem with all other schools I have thought of._

_I arrived in the early spring, although seasons mean little that far north. I stayed for a week, and while I was there I made the acquaintance of a man whose name was very familiar. I will not write it here, in case this letter falls into the wrong hands, but you should know of whom I speak. This man, a Thalmor agent, will be remaining in the school for the foreseeable future. If you happen to journey there yourself I'm sure you could ask him some questions about his actions, and maybe take some action of your own - if you are so inclined._

_Anyway, I am home now. Skyrim is far too cold for me, and perhaps the life of a scholar is not what is best for my son; he has surprised me by showing an interest in the school of Restoration. Perhaps he would benefit from meeting his aunt, the greatest healer in all of Tamriel (if I remember correctly, that is what you called yourself). I think I would benefit from seeing you as well. My husband has a very large family surrounding him and they are so kind to me, but they only make me miss my big sister more. Please write back soon!_

_All my love,_

_Celande._


	2. Chapter 1:  Igdis

They met at the crossroads outside of Whiterun.

A lone, skinny wolf with a foaming mouth had come down from the mountains and was trotting back and forth on the other side of the bridge, gathering its courage before advancing towards the livestock that grazed the farmlands. Annili prepared a fireball to sling at the crazed animal, but before she could let it fly a Nord woman was barrelling towards it, an axe in one hand and a shield in the other. The high elf observed as the warrior dealt with the creature, allowing the magic at her fingertips to disperse as she watched. Within seconds, the beast lay dead.

With a rag she had produced from her sleeve, the Nord woman wiped the blood from her axe then hung it back at her waist. She cleaned her hands as she walked towards Annili, a frown on her face.

"A word of warning, Altmer," she called. "The folks around here aren't too fond of magic. You'd do best to keep your spells to yourself while you're near civilized people."

Annili looked at the woman. She had blonde hair, pulled back matter-of-factly from her scarred face, and one of her eyes was milky white. Despite this, she looked no older than thirty-five.

"Have no fear, I don't intend to burn anything that doesn't absolutely require burning," the elf replied, giving a small smile. The warrior squinted at her as if calculating how much of a threat she was, then cracked a broad grin.

"Well, so long as you've got them under control. Which way are you headed?"

Annili considered. Ultimately, her destination was Winterhold, but she wasn't sure if it was worth continuing on her journey today or if it was getting too late. Either way, she'd need to stop off in Whiterun for supplies.

"I'm going to Winterhold. I need to visit the college."

"I'm bound the same way," the Nord said, shoving the blood soaked rag into her belt. "I have business in Whiterun first, though."

"I'm in no particular hurry," Annili said with a shrug. "Maybe we could travel together. It would be safer, certainly."

The warrior instantly became guarded. "I don't know about that," she said sharply.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't get in your way. I've been around for a very long time, I can handle myself better than most. And I could pay for supplies. I'm certainly not short on money."

Although she didn't look very reassured, the Nord nodded. "Alright, then. We can hole up in the tavern and leave at first light. The name's Igdis White-eye," she finished, proffering a hand.

Annili took it, and said, "Anni. Of Kvatch."

They walked side by side through the farmland surrounding the city, chatting idly about the weather and the prospect of a warm meal. Something that Annili had learned from the brief time she had spent in Skyrim was that the moment you stepped outside of a tavern, everything was cold; the weather, the food, the attitudes. She'd be glad for a warm bed, a good bowl of simple stew, and a bit of friendly conversation. As if with a mind of their own, her fingers delved into her pocket, seeking the warmth of the stone therein.

"You said you were from Kvatch?" Igdis questioned.

"That's right," Annili replied. "My father was head of the Mages' Guild chapter there."

Igdis frowned at her. "There hasn't been a Mages' Guild in Kvatch since before the Oblivion Crisis."

"No. And I haven't had a father since then either. Only my sister and I survived out of my whole family. My mother, my father - I never found them."

"That must've been tough on you. You must've been very young during the Crisis."

"I was twenty-four. My sister was fifteen. It was a long time ago." Annili smiled sadly. "It led to better times for me and my sister, if you can believe that. What about you? Are you native to Skyrim?" she asked, attempting to move the subject away from herself.

"I was actually born here, in Whiterun. But my mother died when I was five, and my father sold the smithy and moved us to a town near Bruma. This is my first time back here since I was a child."

As they approached the gate they were stopped by a guard who told them that the city was closed due to a dragon - of all things - but a few brief words from Igdis talked him round. Hesitantly, he opened the gate and sent them on their way.

Once they were inside, Annili gave a soft snort. "Talk of dragons - I've never heard such nonsense." She looked around, trying to spy out a shop or marketplace where she could buy supplies. Igdis, without looking at her, frowned.

"It's not nonsense. A dragon attacked Helgen. I was there."

The elf gave her a sideways glance. The look on the warrior's face was nothing less than sincere, and deeply worried.

"I've seen stranger things than dragons, I suppose," Annili said, hand instinctively resting over the stone in her pocket.

They decided to split up; while Igdis went to speak with the Jarl, Annili rented two rooms at the tavern, The Bannered Mare, and took a look around the market. She replenished her travel rations and made sure to buy plenty for Igdis.

Annili also needed to stock up on magicka potions, as she was running low and running out on the road would be disastrous - and possibly life-threatening. She asked a stallholder where she could find an alchemist, but when she was heading into the shop the sound of running feet made her pause and look over her shoulder.

Igdis, axe drawn, was rushing through the street. On her heels was a Dunmer woman and a gaggle of city guards; they seemed to be following her lead, rather than trying to catch her. Annili called out, trying to catch the Nord's attention. Igdis' eyes flashed to the elf's face, but the only reply she got was, "Dragon!"

The familiar weight of duty formed inside Annili's mind. A ball of magical ice appeared in her palm, swirling and glittering brightly in the light of the late afternoon sun, as she sprinted after the guards. She was aware of the eyes of the townsfolk following her; she was drawing attention to herself, exactly what she didn't want, but she had no choice.

She caught up with Igdis and together they pushed through the gates of the city.

Blood rushed in her ears, blocking all other sound. That fear she had felt the first time she had entered the Deadlands of Mehrunes Dagon, it was back. But she had survived that, she thought as her fingers brushed the stone she carried in her pocket, and she would survive this. She vaulted over a low wall and jogged across the uneven field, trying to keep up with the Nord in front of her, whose careless boots were crushing the crops. If they couldn't stop this dragon the crops would be far worse than crushed - as would the people.

The watchtower where the dragon had been loomed into view, a dark column of smoke rising from it and loose masonry scattered around it. There was no sign of the dragon itself, but no doubting it had been here. The Dunmer woman, Irileth, spoke to her soldiers as Annili and Igdis pushed on ahead. The acrid smell of smoke was heavy in the air, and underneath it hung a more sinister smell, a cloyingly sweet smell of burning flesh. Annili did her best not to gag, and was glad to see the grimace on the Nord's face and know she was not alone. As they pressed on a man, wounded, covered in blood which was surely not all his own, crept from the ruins of the tower.

"No!" he cried, eyes wild with fear. "Get back! It's still here."

Both women ignored him, climbing up a broken chunk of wall and onto the walkway. Igdis shepherded the man back into the tower, taking his bow from his hands.

"You're too hurt to fight," she said, voice gentle but firm. "Stay out of sight, and don't get in the way."

Annili wasted no time in disappearing up the tower, and after taking the wounded man's arrows Igdis followed. A concerned voice in the back of the Altmer's mind asked if it was a good idea to climb to the top of the tower, where they would be most exposed, but she silenced it as she reached the top. She stood, golden face grim, eyes set on the mountains.

"It's coming back," she said, as Igdis reached the top of the stairs.

Igdis followed her companion's gaze and saw the beast, soaring slowly towards them from above the clouds. She quailed, but gripped her bow firmly in her hand.

"Anni, we should get inside the tower."

The Altmer's orange eyes remained fixed on the dragon. "You go down with the others. I will keep its focus, and you fill it with arrows."

Igdis' lip curled. "I don't take orders from you, elf."

Annili's gaze flickered, a barely perceptible hesitation. "It was merely a suggestion."

The spell she had in her hands grew in intensity as she raised them and held them closer together. Igdis rather obviously resisted the urge to step away from the mage and knocked an arrow. The beast picked up speed as it grew closer. A shout of, "here it comes!" came from somewhere below, and then it was right in front of them. Barely metres from where the women stood, it pulled up and rumbled something that sounded like a word. At the same time as Anni hurled her spell at it, Igdis fired an arrow into its underbelly, luckily hitting it between the scales. Annili stepped in front of Igdis and threw up as strong a ward as she could, just seconds before flames poured over them. Then the flapping of great wings carried the dragon away, and it focused its attention on the archers below.

Annili nodded at the warrior, and Igdis turned her attention back to the dragon, raining arrows down from above. The scene they looked down on was not a good one. Irileth sat slumped behind a piece of the tower, and most of the guards also looked wounded, or dead. Within seconds of targeting them, the dragon had decimated them.

Beside Igdis, Annili also added her spells to the attack. Before long they were the only ones fighting, and the dragon looked up with malicious intent. The elf threw up another ward but could not step in front of Igdis in time; the Nord cursed as her left arm blistered with the heat of the dragon's attack. Still, she knocked another arrow and let it fly.

They both staggered away from the edge as another bout of flames spilled over the stone.

"I'm out of arrows," Igdis growled, dropping the bow and clutching at her axe. Annili looked at her with dismay.

"I can't keep this up either. I don't have much left in me and I can't-"

And suddenly the dragon was on them.

From its perch on the top of the tower it leered down at them, a deadly intelligence in its eyes. It lowered its head, swinging it like a club, and sent Igdis crashing back down the stairs of the tower with bone-breaking force. Annili managed to dodge, stumbling to her knees mere centimetres from where the beast's jaws passed. The dragon roared, and Annili shouted, raising her arms and directing every last bit of magicka she had at the creature's open mouth. Lightning spilled down its throat, and it writhed and thrashed as its insides burned. Teetering dangerously, it reared backwards, then fell over the edge of the tower. A thunderous crash shook the tower to its very foundations, and Annili knew the dragon was dead.

She sank to her knees, suddenly lightheaded, and then she was gone.

***

Her mouth was thick with the taste of magicka, her tongue dry. She screwed her eyes shut, hoping to cling to the blessed darkness of unconsciousness, but the pain in her head only intensified. With a groan, Annili pulled herself to a sitting position and cracked one eye open.

She was in the room she had rented at the Bannered Mare, and Igdis was sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, seemingly asleep. As Annili moved, Igdis stirred, her relaxed face becoming tense with worry.

"Are you alright? You've been out for more than a day."

Annili nodded, although she felt like her head was going to explode. "Pass me my pack," she croaked. Igdis searched around the floor and then threw the leather satchel onto the bed. Annili winced at the sound of clinking glass but made no comment. Reaching inside, she pulled out a small blue phial and unstoppered it, pouring the contents into her mouth. As the effects began to spread through her body, she drank another; her veins felt less like they were full of sand every second, and the ache in her head receded.

"What happened?" she asked, finally.

"Don't you remember?" the warrior said, her face drawn and tired. "It's not something I'll soon forget. You killed a dragon."

Annili shook her head. "No, I don't recall. It's not unusual though - the forgetting, I mean. It's certainly not the first time it's happened, and it won't be the last."

Igdis raised an eyebrow.

"I was born under the sign of the Atronach," the elf explained. "I can't create magicka naturally in my body, not without external sources, and for some reason when I run out I lose consciousness."

"And you chose to become a mage?"

Annili chuckled. "It was never really a choice. I come from a family of mages: my father, my elder brother and my younger sister were all talented spellcasters, so if I had not been a mage… well you can imagine. I worked very hard to keep my problem hidden, and in time I rivalled my brother's skill."

"You couldn't have kept it hidden forever, though," said Igdis, reclining.

"No. All secrets will out with time, and I was practicing wards with my father when I fainted. He was furious that I had been endangering my life for all those years, so I left and went to live at the Arcane University in the Imperial City. I was already a full member of the Mages' Guild, so it seemed the only option."

"Mages' Guild? You're older than you look."

"Flatterer," Annili said, with a small smile. "What about you, though? What happened after I went down?"

Igdis looked uncomfortable. "Well, the dragon knocked me down the stairs, and somehow I only broke a finger. When I woke up, you were at the top, just lying there, so I carried you down. Then I went to have a look at the dragon and… well, long story short, it looks like I might be Dragonborn, like in the old Nord legends. Born with the soul of a dragon, able to speak the dragon language. Or so I'm told. Really, I just want to get to Winterhold and deal with my business there, then go home."

"Well, that's something," Annili mused. "Destiny has a way of arising when it's most inconvenient for all involved." She folded back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "We'd better set out if we want to reach Windhelm soon."

"Are you sure you're fit to travel?" the warrior asked.

"Of course." Annili hesitated, then stood up. She swayed slightly, putting a hand out to steady herself, then straightened. Her eyes locked with the Nord's and, with her chin held high, she produced a look that allowed no objection, even in her weakened state.

"Alright, then," Igdis conceded tersely. "But I've had a slight change of plans. I'll have to head to High Hrothgar before going north; since I might be Dragonborn I have to meet with the Greybeards there. So unless you want to accompany me, you'll have to go on alone."

The elf tucked the empty phials back into her pack and stepped into her boots on as she spoke.

"I'm almost certain that I've recovered, but I'll admit to being hesitant to travel alone so soon after an episode. I've been trying to stay as far away from destiny and fate as possible these past few years, but... I hope you don't mind if I stay with you."

"Of course not," Igdis said with a shrug. "Nice to travel with someone for once - even with a milk drinker such as yourself." She grinned widely, and whatever tension had been dissipated.

"Charming," Annili chuckled.

They collected up their possessions and, after a quick, cold breakfast, headed out through the city. It was just after sunrise, and most people were only just getting up, although the blacksmith whose forge was by the city gates looked to have been hard at work for a while. Igdis' eyes became fixed on her as they walked towards her. Annili was just about to ask what was so fascinating about this particular black smith, when the warrior spoke.

"I used to live in that house," she said. "I told you, before my father and I moved to Cyrodiil, he and my mother ran the forge and sold enchanted weaponry."

Annili considered her companion carefully. The Nord's face remained pointedly blank.

"How did your mother die?" Annili asked gently.

"My mother was murdered," Igdis said, and continued on towards the gates. The conversation was obviously over. Murdered loved ones was a subject Annili understood well, and knew not to push.

They reached the stables quickly, and Annili halted. A horse would speed the journey considerably, and although she wasn't in a particular hurry she did want to reach Winterhold before the month was out. Igdis noticed that she wasn't following and looked back over her shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked. Annili considered, then approached the man who was leaning on the wall.

"Do you have two horses for sale?" she asked.

"If you've got the money," he replied.

"Would two thousand gold be enough?"

"Certainly would."

She reached into her satchel, pulling out two separate oilskin bags, each containing a thousand gold coins. She didn't like carrying so much money around with her, especially while the province was in such a state of unrest that made so many men desperate, but she had little alternative. With no permanent home anymore, she was forced to carry the majority of her money sewn in little pouches inside her robes; the rest she had hidden in an out-of-the-way ruin in the Jeralls while she was crossing the border. Better to invest money in horses than be a walking, jingling target for muggers.

The man took the bags, weighed them up carefully, checked the contents, and only once he was satisfied that the vast number of coins were, in fact, real septims did he call over his boy to saddle the horses.

Igdis looked a little put out.

"You can't just buy me a horse," she said.

"Why not? It's my money."

"Exactly!" Igdis said. "Your money. Not mine."

The Altmer frowned. "If you feel so terrible about it, you can sell the poor beast when we reach Winterhold and pay me back, although I absolutely do not expect that of you."

Igdis stared at Annili, eyes hard, before she sighed and dropped the subject.

The stable boy lead two stocky black mares out, saddled and fresh for the day's ride. Annili approached one, twisting her fingers gently into the wiry fur on its neck and giving it a scratch. It whickered appreciatively. The two of them would get along fine, Annili was sure.

"I much prefer horses to people," she mumbled into its ear. "There's no such thing as a well trained human."

Undoing the straps of her satchel so she could attach it to the saddle, Annili glanced across at her companion. Her hesitance to accept the horse as a gift was translated plainly in her body language, and the horse was becoming uneasy. Annili thought she should probably say something, but something told her the warrior valued her pride very highly, and she kept her mouth shut.

Before long they were mounted and riding side by side along the east road, following the course of the White River. Igdis had expressed a desire to avoid travelling through Helgen, and although this meant the route to Winterhold would be a much longer one, Annili obliged her. They kept the horses at a brisk trot for as long as they could; this was fine for Annili as hers was sweet-natured and obedient; not so for Igdis, Annili noticed, as the Nord's horse was stubborn and quarrelsome. Igdis quickly took to calling her "Swit", which Annili found both humorous and sad. She named her own horse "Latta".

The first leg of the journey was largely uneventful, with nothing more than wolves blocking their passage. They stopped for a late lunch on a bridge which spanned the Darkwater, perching on the edge as they made short work of their bread rolls. They continued along the main road for a time, before turning onto a steep, sandy track. This wound its way ever upwards through the foothills of the Throat, only straightening when it began to follow the course of another river.

On this stretch of the road there was a rocky overhang, and underneath a troll had taken up residence, and had already claimed the lives of two Stormcloak soldiers. The companions didn't see it until it was almost too late, only managing to scramble from their horses and send them out of the way of its charge at the last second. Igdis held her shield up against its vicious swipes and swung her axe when she could; meanwhile Annili stumbled out to the shallows of the river and began slinging fireballs over the Nord's head. Every one made the monster scream out and lash harder at the warrior, and Igdis grimaced as the force of it battering her shield sent jolting pain through her burned arm. Eventually, however, the beast fell. While Igdis went to bring back the horses - which had wandered some distance - Annili set about the corpse with a knife, slicing off as much fat as she could carry and wrapping it in oilskin.

Igdis returned, leading Swit and Latta behind her, and gave Annili a disgusted look.

"You mages are strange folks," she muttered.

"I take it that means you won't carry any," Annili said, holding up one seeping package hopefully.

"Not on your life, elf."

With a chuckle, Annili placed the packages into her satchel, then took Latta's reins and swung up into the saddle.

They reached Ivarstead at nightfall, handing Latta and Swit over to an employee of the Vilemyr Inn to be looked after overnight.

"Good riddance," Annili heard Igdis mutter darkly. She smiled.

The inside of the inn was warm and smoky, the long fire pit that ran along the centre of the room casting dark shadows at the edges of the room. It was quite busy; judging by the empty street, all the residents of the town had gathered together for a pint and a chat. Annili was delighted to find a large pot of warm stew bubbling over the fire, and had finished two helpings before she turned in for the night.

The following day the sun rose pale and tired, struggling to pass through the clouds. Annili rose early, as she always did, at around five o'clock. Yawning and picking straw from her hair, she took the black stone and coins out of her pockets and placed them in her pack. After quaffing a magicka potion she headed barefoot into the main room and asked the innkeeper, a man called Wilhelm, for a bucket and cloth she could use to bathe. He searched around in the store room for a while before he managed to find any, and then he presented them to her with assurances that there would be porridge available for a septim when she got back.

She thanked him before heading out to the river that flowed behind the inn.

There was a spot on the riverbank protected by some shrubs and a small overhang, so she went behind it, filled the bucket with water, and began to peel off her travel-stained robe. It was still too early for the townsfolk to be up, but even so she didn't want to stand in full view of the town; as a healer, she wasn't particularly prudish about her body, but she also wasn't particularly fond of exposing herself to complete strangers.

Crouching down, she heated the water in the bucket with a basic spell and scrubbed roughly at her skin with the damp cloth. In the freezing mountain air her skin was goosepimply within seconds of being exposed and she worked quickly, feeling her fingers and toes going blue. She splashed the water over herself, washing off any residue, then filled the bucket again. After heating it she washed the dirt and grease from her hair. With a third and final bucket she washed her undergarments and all the layers of her robe, except the outer one, which she wrapped around herself like a short dress as she waited for the rest to dry.

She climbed up onto the overhang and sat with her legs hanging over the edge. The sun was only partially up and the birds were only just beginning to sing, sweet chirping songs about anger and love; very much like the Nords they shared their homeland with. She listened to the sound of their voices over the burbling of the river and the rustle of the leaves, and was content for the first time in a very long while. Skyrim was still wild and beautiful despite it being the first home of men; she could imagine making a home here, away from the politics and intrigue of the cities.

But not yet.

She carried her still-damp clothes back to the inn, wiping her feet on the cloth as she stepped inside the door. The innkeeper offered to pin the clothes up next to the fire to dry, for which Annili thanked him and headed back to her room. She flopped down onto the soft fur that covered the bed, revelling in the feel of it against her bare arms and legs. With a satisfied sigh she reached down into her satchel and drew out the stone. The heat of it instantly warmed her frozen fingers as she cupped her hands around it, and she studied it casually as she rolled it between each palm. It was black, crystalline but rough, and a sort of red non-light flickered in the air around it every now and then. The stone itself seemed to consume the light around it, making it seem darker still.

Two-hundred and one years ago Annili had plucked it, as she did with many others like it, from a tower in the Deadlands. Her actions had closed countless Oblivion gates and saved many lives, but she only allowed herself to hold on to one. It was hard for her not to dwell in the past, but would have been harder still with all the stones as reminders.

A gentle knock sounded on the door, and Igdis' scarred face poked around it. Annili scrambled to conceal the stone but even as she did so she knew it was too late.

"Morning," the Nord said. "What've you got there?"

"Ah," the Altmer replied. "It's a Sigil Stone."

Igdis' brows shot up as she whistled appreciatively. "Those things are valuable. Where did you get it?"

Annili hesitated. She really didn't want to blow her cover. She knew that if the Thalmor discovered she was still alive there would be assassins on her trail for the rest of her days. Still, she would be travelling with Igdis for a while, and she didn't seem the type to sell out a friend.

"In an Oblivion gate during the Crisis," she finally admitted.

Igdis didn't seem to know what to say. Her eyes flicked from Annili to the stone, then back. Finally, she asked, "Can I touch it?"

Annili laughed and held it out. "I don't see why not."

The elf dropped the stone into Igdis' cupped hands, watching with a small smile as the warrior gasped.

"It's so warm!" she cried. She ran her fingers over the surface of it before handing it back to its owner. "I heard that only a handful of people went into an Oblivion gate and came out alive. And you closed one?"

"I closed a lot of them," Annili shrugged. "There were a lot to close."

"Who are you?" the warrior asked, voice quiet.

"Annili, Champion of Cyrodiil, at your service. I'd be thankful if you didn't tell anyone else."

Igdis blinked. "The Champion of Cyrodiil. You."

"Hard to believe, I know," Annili said. "I've been hiding from the Thalmor since… well, for a very long time. Living in caves and ruins for most of it. But everyone thinks I'm dead, as do the Thalmor, so it was worth it. I have some unfinished business with them and it'll work best if they don't know I'm coming for them."

At that, Igdis nodded and dropped the subject. She didn't seem quite sure what to make of the information, but Annili was fine with that. She'd be happier discussing it later, maybe on the lonely path up the mountain, rather than in a working inn where there were people about to hear.

They headed through to the main room and paid the innkeeper for two bowls of porridge, which they ate quickly. Igdis wanted an early start on the climb to High Hrothgar.

They paid to have their horses stabled for the duration of their visit to High Hrothgar, not wanting to inflict the steps on them; by midmorning they both regretted it. Annili's muscles ached with each stone step she climbed and her lungs were burning, and with the added strain of dealing with wolves she wasn't sure she'd make it to the top. She chanced a look at her companion; she bore the struggle with red-faced determination. Both of them knew the other was too proud to suggest a break, and eventually Annili made the excuse of stopping to study one of the shrines, giving her a chance to rest her aching legs.

They set out again far too soon for Annili's liking, and by the time they stopped for lunch she thought she might actually die. Even with food in her belly she felt like her legs were made of lead. Every step after that was a torture, with the added delight of nausea, and she thought she would very much like to lie down in the snow and never get up.

And then they rounded a corner and the walls of High Hrothgar loomed over the path.

"Thank the Nine," Annili muttered.


	3. Chapter 2: Parting

After the brightness of the snow, Annili was almost blind in the darkness of the entry hall. Slowly, as her eyes grew accustomed, she advanced into the room close behind Igdis.

"So," came a voice from the shadows, startling Igdis enough that she almost reached for her axe. "A Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."

He was an old man, perhaps in his seventies. He wore a robe with a hood, out of which came a long grey beard, although little could be seen of his face

"I'm answering your summons," Igdis said flatly.

"We will see if you truly have the gift," he said, his tone slightly dismissive. "Show us, _Dragonborn_. Let us taste of your voice." Three others, similarly dressed and bearded, appeared from the shadows behind him to watch.

"FUS!" she bellowed. The Greybeards standing before her staggered back against the stairs with the force of it. The one who had spoken looked up from under his hood with wide, hopeful eyes.

Annili, moving a little further back, muttered, "Impressive."

"Dragonborn. It is you," the speaker breathed. "Welcome to High Hrothgar. Your friend, too. I am Master Arngeir; I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

"I'm answering your summons," she repeated.

"We are honoured to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar," he said. "We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfilment of your destiny."

"And… what, exactly, is my destiny?" the warrior asked hesitantly.

"That is for you to discover," Arngeir said, waving his hand dismissively. "We can show you the way but not your destination."

"Well. I'm ready to learn how to use this 'gift', if you'll show me."

"It's true that you have the inborn gift," the old man said slowly. "But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen."

Igdis bristled at the old man's words. Annili could see her shoulders tensing even in the dark.

"Without training," he continued, "you have already taken the first steps into projecting your voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us she if you are willing and able to learn."

He went on to speak at length about the language of dragons and words of power, but Annili paid little attention. She could see Igdis shifting impatiently in front her. But when another Greybeard stepped forward and wrote a word into the stone of the floor with his voice, they both focused. Igdis walked towards it, trembling with anticipation. She looked down at the scratchings, which glowed briefly before fading.

She turned around and grinned at Annili, who returned a small smile.

"You learn a new word like a master," said Arngeir. "You truly do have the gift. But learning a word of power is only the first step. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of 'Ro'."

Instantly, the man who had written the shout turned to Igdis, and the threads of knowledge passed visibly between them. The warrior shivered.

"Now, let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um."

They created targets for her to hit, and she hit each of them dead-on, as if it was something she had been doing all her life. She even sent some pots and vases flying against the wall, shattering with the force of the words. Annili found herself very interested, but when she tried to listen to the words they slipped through her hearing like water through cloth.

Next they led them out into the courtyard and taught Igdis a new shout. The speed that this Thu'um gave her friend made Annili dizzy.

"You are now ready for your last trial," Arngeir told the Nord. "Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the way of the voice, and you will return."

The Greybeards gave the two women food and beds for the night, both of which they were immensely thankful for after their long journey. They ate together, earlier than the Greybeards themselves, at a rickety wooden table just outside the sleeping quarters.

"I suppose this final trial means we won't be travelling to Winterhold together," Annili said, placing a mouthful of delicately veined cheese into her mouth.

"I suppose not." Igdis tore off a large mouthful of bread and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "I still have business thereabouts, though."

"I'm sure I'll still be at the college if you happen to drop by," the Altmer said, smiling slightly. They quickly moved on to other subjects, and finally Igdis' curiosity seemed to get the better of her.

"If you're the Champion of Cyrodiil, that means you knew Martin Septim."

"Yes."

"What was he like?"

"He was… sweet." Annili paused and stared into her bowl. "I don't think he would have made a very good emperor. To rule, a person needs a certain hardness about them. He didn't have that. Strength, certainly, and compassion in spades. But he couldn't let people get hurt, couldn't stand to think about it, even if that was the only way. He was a wonderful man to have known, really."

"Not that it really mattered if he was good at being in charge," she added. "The Emperor was rarely the one who made the decisions." She twiddled the ring on her finger, the diamond set in it blinking in the light of the lantern set on the table. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

They spoke at length about their reasons for being in Skyrim; Igdis admitted that she was here because a year ago she had received a letter informing her that the man who had murdered her mother had escaped from prison and was hiding out on the coast near Winterhold.

"I don't know what I'd do if I found him," she said with a shrug. "Maybe I want revenge, maybe I just want to know why he did what he did. I guess I'll have to wait a bit longer to find out, though, what with this Dragonborn business. What about you? You said you were heading to the college, but you seem a little too… experienced to need to study there."

"Experienced is just another way of saying old," Annili laughed. "But no," she said, growing serious. "I'm not going there to study. I was considering a teaching position, and then I hear that an old _acquaintance_ has come out of the woodwork there. I intend to pay him a visit."

As if Igdis could sense something dangerous to speak about lurking just below the surface of the conversation, she let it drift to lighter topics.

***

They set out just after dawn the next day, journeying together down the steps in silence. Although the descent was much easier going, neither felt much like talking; Annili was occupied with thoughts of the past, while Igdis was thinking of the future. In the early afternoon they reached the last step and paid for their rooms at the inn for a second night. When they were rested and fed they went to collect their horses from where they were grazing. Latta seemed happy at being freed from the tethering post she was tied to; Swit seemed disgruntled at being made to move. They rode for a few hours until arriving at the crossroads where they would have to part ways.

"Well," Igdis said awkwardly. "I don't like goodbyes, so I'll see you when I see you."

"I'm sure that will be soon enough. Good luck at Ustengrav," Annili replied.

"And you at the college."

They sat silent in their saddles for a long moment, then Igdis spurred her horse along the road leading north-west, lifting a hand to wave without looking back. Annili watched her go for a moment, feeling a faint sadness, before she shook herself and crossed the river.

The remainder of the ride was dull, the sun setting just before the city of Windhelm came into view. Annili left Latta at the stable and paid for a cheap room with cheap, itchy bedding and cheap, chewy soup available downstairs. She stayed in the city no longer than she had to, leaving with first light. Almost as soon as the sun came up, however, it started to snow heavily, and Annili was loathe to push her animal too hard in the foul weather. They went achingly slowly, the surface of the road slippery under the horse's hooves, until the sun was at its zenith and the snowfall lightened considerably. Soon, to her great delight, it stopped altogether. She was going to have to invest in some warmer robes soon if she intended to stay in the icy north.

In the late afternoon, as the light was turning golden and fading, woman and beast reached the top of a hill and suddenly the sea was there in front of them, spread out like a sheet of glass in the distance. The sight was breathtaking, and for a minute they stood still while Annili breathed the crisp air and watched the sun glinting on waves miles away. She rode a few minutes along the road and the college appeared around a corner, standing proudly out from the mainland, attached only by an unstable looking stone bridge.

The town itself more closely resembled the bridge than the college; most of the houses were simply shells, empty, their interiors open to the elements. The Altmer rode in as dusk fell, handing Latta over to an employee of the inn and paying for stabling for a few days. It didn't look like Winterhold shared in the prosperity of the college, but the inn seemed to be doing well enough.

At the foot of the bridge another Altmer woman stopped her in her tracks.

"Halt! Cross the bridge at your peril," she cautioned. "The way is dangerous and the gate will not open."

"I've come to talk to the Arch Mage about a teaching position."

The woman looked a little unsure, but motioned towards the bridge anyway. "Follow me, then. I'll open the gate."

As Annili stepped onto the bridge, the wind whipped her clothes and hair and threatened to tear her from the ground. The shore was a dizzyingly long way down, so she kept her eyes on the back of the woman before her as she cast whichever spell was required to open the way.

The college was certainly impressive, even if the entryway was crumbling so. The courtyard was circular, ringed by a covered stone walkway and split through the middle by a stone path worn by countless feet. In the centre were lawns filled with fir trees, berry bushes and winter flowers, and at regular intervals around the outside were basins of magelight. In the very middle was a circular platform with a well of light, over which a weathered stone statue stood, arms spread wide.

And standing in the doorway of what Annili assumed was the main building was the man she had been searching for. He looked older, and his golden skin was pale from the northern sun, but it was definitely him.

"He's right there," her guide said, pointing at a Dunmer man contemplating the view from one of the glassless windows. Annili thanked her and headed towards him, trying her hardest to ignore the Altmer in the doorway.

"Excuse me, Savos Aren?"

"Ah, yes? Can I help you?" the mage asked, turning to face her.

"I've come to ask about a position at the college. Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

"A position here, is that so?" He looked her up and down appraisingly, and she endured the scrutiny with what she hoped was a friendly smile. He nodded. "We shall see. Follow me to my office, if you will."

He lead her straight towards the Altmer man, and the woman he was arguing with. Annili grimaced, but schooled her expression as best she could as they came closer.

"Excuse me, Mirabelle, Ancano," Aren said tersely. "If you would perhaps like to take your disagreement somewhere more private?"

"That's alright," Ancano replied dryly, nose held aloft. "We're done here." He stormed off through the door without sparing Annili so much as a glance, and she felt a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding escape. Aren gave the woman, Mirabelle, a look of chastisement, then followed Ancano through the door, holding it open for Annili. She was thankful to see the other Altmer was already on the other side of the main hall, apparently watching a group of students being lectured. They turned through a door on the left and ascended a staircase, coming out into a large entry hall. The next room was obviously the Arch Mage's quarters, and, like most of the rest of the school, it had a circular layout. In the centre was a garden full of alchemical ingredients, lit by magelight, and on the edges of the room were display cases, enchanting and alchemy apparatuses, and several desks. Aren led her to one of these, on which were an ornate silver pitcher and matching goblets, and gestured for her to sit in one of the two chairs.

As she seated herself he offered her a glass of wine, saying, "I gather you only arrived a few minutes ago; I assume you had a long journey and would welcome a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no," she said with a smile. He filled her a goblet and then poured one for himself.

"I don't think I caught your name," he said, settling comfortably into the other chair, with one leg draped nonchalantly over the other.

"Annili of Cyrodiil."

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Truly? By all accounts, you are a dead woman."

"It was necessary that people thought so," she explained. "The Thalmor seemed to think I was a threat, perhaps due to my friendship with the Potentate, or my position as Arch Mage in the guild." She stumbled over the word 'friendship', but Aren seemed not to notice.

She continued. "In all honesty, I am here because I grew tired of hiding. You would be astounded by how many caves and Ayleid ruins I found myself forced to take shelter in over the last two centuries. But I digress; I am not interested in politics and I never have been, no matter what the Thalmor think." She took a mouthful of wine. It was a good vintage.

Aren stroked his beard thoughtfully. "And you would like a position here to prove that."

"Well, not as such. I would like to remain under another name - perhaps Nurenna would be suitable. It was my mother's name."

Aren considered her for a minute, finishing his wine.

"Very well, then," he said, at length. "I think I can allow that. I seem to recall that your specialties were Destruction and Restoration? A curious combination."

"I don't believe in creating messes you don't also have the power to fix," she smiled.

"A wise belief. Welcome to the College of Winterhold, Nurenna."


	4. Chapter 3: Teaching

Annili was hesitant to admit it, but she had enjoyed her first month as Nurenna. She liked the challenge of getting the excitable apprentices under control, trying and, more often than not, failing to get them to pay attention to lessons in Restoration. She watched with a small smile as the Khajiit student fumbled the coalescence spell he was casting and cursed under his breath.

"Can't we practice with flames? I am not interested in this boring school," he spat, disgust dripping from his voice.

"Of course we can practice with flames," Nurenna said. Her students sat up straight in their seats, eyes bright with hope. "Once we all know how to heal the burns they can cause."

They groaned in unison.

"There is no power in the school of Restoration. How will J'zargo become powerful with such spells?" the Khajiit asked.

"No power in Restoration?" Nurenna said, holding back a bark of laughter. "So there is no power in healing a man from the edge of death? At the very least it can be a valuable tool to hold over your enemies, if that is all that interests you."

"How so?" Onmund asked.

"Well… imagine your enemy lies bleeding on the ground, begging for mercy. And you say you can heal him if he tells you where the safe is, if he unlocks the door to wherever it is you need to be, if he hands over the secret documents he is carrying. Nine times out of ten, when a man looks death in the face pride and loyalty go out the window. They will do whatever they must to keep breathing."

"And you have used this method before?" Brelyna asked, her face worried.

"Many times, I'm afraid. Now, if everyone will please focus on the lesson, I will show you again how to heal a burn."

She noticed that her students became much more invested in their Restoration work after that.

She fell into an easy rhythm at the college, waking at six to bathe and eat in her room, then going for a walk around the courtyard to clear her head for the day before her. Lessons started at eight and finished at one, when she would eat lunch with one of the other teachers or with the stern Mirabelle Ervine. After that she would spend most of the day in the library reading or helping Urag gro-Shub to tidy up.

That particular day, as the sun was beginning to go down, she found herself curled up in a chair with the book _Rising Threat, Vol. IV_. She found herself pitying the writer, so obviously correct in his assumptions and so completely ignored.

"_All the while,_" she read, "_the Thalmor consolidated their hold over my beloved homeland. It took almost a decade before my own machinations put me into contact with Ocato. He seemed more interested than most in what I had to say about the Thalmor, maybe because he was himself an Altmer and recognized the threat they represented_."

She remembered that. Ocato had shown her the letters one night, handing them over and pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"I fear what will happen if the Empire continues to wane in power," he said. "Those blasted Thalmor are a far greater threat than anyone realises."

"We'll think of something," she had replied, skimming the letters and then placing them down on his desk, before wrapping her arms around him and kissing the corner of his mouth. "You can't stay up tonight, though. You're wearing yourself out."

He laughed a tired laugh and drew her in closer, kissing her on the nose. "And you have plenty of other ways to wear me out planned, I'm sure."

A cold voice drew her from her memories.

"That book is nonsense, you know. The writer was quite insane."

She looked up at Ancano, trying to keep her expression neutral.

"I don't know," she said, barely managing to keep the contempt from her voice. "He makes some good points."

"Really," he chided. "As an Altmer I would have thought you would be sympathetic to our cause."

"No," Nurenna replied flatly.

He laughed. Not exactly the reaction she had expected.

"Well, we must discuss it some time. I'm sure I can convince you of the merits of the Thalmor, if you would only listen."

She smiled sweetly at him, although her skin crawled. Not in a million years, she thought. It was hard to fight the urge to set him alight with a fireball.

"Perhaps we could-" he began, but then his eyes flicked to the doorway. "Oh, Savos. Hello."

Savos smiled as he approached the pair. "Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could talk to you in my quarters, Nurenna," he said.

"Hmm," Ancano said. "We can continue our discussion at a later date." He straightened his robes and walked briskly away, seemingly embarrassed at being caught flirting.

"Thank you," Nurenna breathed when he disappeared around the doors.

"I'm so terribly sorry, I know how much you enjoy his company," Savos said dryly. "But I would like to talk to you. If you'll follow me," he said, gesturing to the door. They crossed the room between the Arcanaeum and the Arch Mage's quarters, the Dunmer holding open the door for Nurenna, then closing it behind her. As they ascended the stairs, Nurenna began to feel safer, the thick wood of the door protecting her from Ancano's inquiries.

"What exactly is Ancano's role here?" she asked, taking the same seat as before. She was curious what lie he had told to be allowed to stay in the college.

"He serves as my advisor." Savos poured two goblets of wine, passing one to her.

"And you trust him?" Nurenna balked, instantly regretting it.

"Well, I suppose so." Savos raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Nurenna grimaced. She hadn't meant to let anything slip.

"I just know that you _cannot_ trust him. Be very careful, Savos; I've had dealings with him before and I know that when Ancano is involved disaster always follows."

He chuckled, albeit a little nervously. "Surely you're overreacting."

"Maybe," she shrugged, although she knew she wasn't. She very plainly remembered intercepting correspondence between Ancano and another Thalmor back in the Summerset Isles, an official thank-you for his 'Recommendations of Removal' for Potentate Ocato and Arch Mage Annili. And she would never forget the morning after that, waiting in bed for Ocato to return after a knock on the door; instead she was greeted by a knife-wielding assassin. The struggle was brief, the knife burying itself inside her stomach even as the electricity from her fingertips stopped the assassin's heart, and then she was on her knees crawling towards the other body; a dark stain spread from the heart, out across his red robes.

Evangeline, Ocato's bodyguard, had found them minutes later as she was about to resume her duties. Healers had been sent for, but it was too late. Annili had survived, although for a long time she wished she hadn't.

She realised that Savos was staring across the table at her, and she shook herself.

"I can see that there is more here than you are telling, but I won't press the matter." He leant forward in his chair. "Anyway. I asked you here to discuss your lessons."

"I have to admit", Nurenna said with a smile, "I enjoy the teaching a lot more than I thought I would."

Savos swallowed thoughtfully. "And by all accounts you are very good at it. We've had trouble getting the students invested in the school of Restoration before, but this intake seems to be progressing quickly under your tutelage."

Nurenna smiled. "Thank you. I did have to use some… questionable methods, but they seem to be a lot more appreciative of the school now."

"Be that as it may, I'd like you to focus on Destruction now. At least for the coming week, as there is an excavation going on at Saarthal which I would like the students to investigate as part of their study. There shouldn't be anything dangerous there, but they should be able to protect themselves in the event that it becomes dangerous. Tolfdir will be taking them down, but you should accompany them also."

"Of course, sir," Nurenna replied.

"Sir? How very formal." He chuckled. "We are equals. Both of us are Arch Mages, and if anything, I should be bowing down to you. Your actions during the Crisis saved many lives."

"Oh, I'd rather you didn't," she smiled. "I was never very good with celebrity. Or with being in charge, for that matter. As you can tell, by the way the guild folded after I took charge."

"That was hardly your fault," he laughed.

"You underestimate me," she grinned, sipping from her goblet.

Their conversation descended into pleasant banter, and Savos invited her to stay for dinner. She regaled him with tales of the necromancers and the Arcane University, and he spoke of comparatively minor problems of students setting each other on fire, and the troubles with the locals. They drank a little too much wine, laughed a little too loudly, and stayed up a little too late. At two in the morning, Nurenna staggered across the freezing courtyard to the Hall of Attainment, stumbled up the steps, and collapsed onto her bed. She fell into a pleasantly dreamless sleep, but woke late with a painful reminder of the night before in the form of a massive hangover. She quickly changed her robes, tied her hair back and hurried to the Hall of the Elements. Her students were milling around in the back of the room, and when they spotted her they lined up.

"Late night, Nurenna?" Brelyna asked with a raised brow.

"Hmm," Nurenna replied. "I've been instructed to practice destruction magic with you so that we can investigate Saarthal together. Unfortunately, I'm not in a fit state to be slinging fireballs around, so I'll be testing your existing abilities. If Onmund and Brelyna would go through to the library and study from the current text, I'll send through for you when it's your turn. J'zargo, if you would stand over there, please."

The other two ambled off while the Khajiit took his position opposite Nurenna.

"Now," she said. "I'm going to cast a ward, and I want you to hit me with a spell."

"What kind of spell?" J'zargo asked. The Altmer shrugged.

"Whatever you are comfortable with."

She pulled up a strong ward, and the Khajiit hit it with a powerful shock spell. There was a great amount of natural talent in this student, and he had a huge pool of magicka. However, the spell was unfocused and spread out too much, which she suspected was a result of him trying to use as much power as possible and show his skill.

"Let's go again," she said. "This time, try to expend as little magicka as possible. Focus the spell on as small a target as you can; a good idea is to aim at a target's belt buckle, instead of simply at the target. That way, even if you don't hit the buckle you are much more likely to direct most of the power of the spell at the target rather than into the air."

The Khajiit frowned with concentration, taking his time before shooting another shock of lightning at Nurenna. It hit the ward hard, and she knew that the spell would have knocked her flying without it.

"Much better!" she cried over the sound of the lightning receding. "I think I've got a good idea of where you're at. Go and fetch Brelyna, would you?"

Nurenna repeated the exercise with the other two students; Brelyna was clumsy, her spells often missing the intended target; Onmund was too excitable, which made his spells weak. Her advice to both of them was to stop, take a deep breath and concentrate before unleashing the spell. Despite their shortcomings, she was sure that they would all be competent enough in their first destruction spell by the end of the week, and she dismissed them with a feeling of pride. They really were going to be fine mages, if they could conquer their impatience.

"It is quite fascinating to watch you work," Ancano said, passing the students as they left through the iron gate. "I had never heard the 'aim for the belt buckle' idea before, but I can imagine it would be very effective."

Nurenna imagined that aiming just below the belt buckle would also be rather effective in this situation. Instead, she stared at him, blank faced.

"You look exhausted after all that work," he continued, unfazed. "Perhaps a nice relaxing glass of wine would do you some good."

"That's the opposite of what I need right now," she said shortly, then forced herself to add, "Perhaps another time."

"I'll hold you to that," he said with a smile. "There's something about you that I can't quite put my finger on. But I would like to."

He walked off in a flounce of robes. She glared at his back, wishing she could crush his black heart with her mind. That he had been watching her since the start of the lesson made her skin crawl. Why was he so focused on her, when all she wanted for now was to stay out of his way? There were plenty of other younger, more attractive Altmer woman at the college for him to bother. Did he recognise her?

With a sigh she collected her papers up in a bundle and returned to the Hall of Attainment to sleep the afternoon away.

***

Loredas was a free day for both students and teachers, so Nurenna decided to take care of some business in the town. She left the college at eight in the morning, heading straight to the inn where Latta was stabled. Although she had grown fond of the animal, it was unfair to keep her stabled when she expected to be staying at the college for the foreseeable future, so she had made up her mind to sell her. She offered the animal to the innkeeper for half the price she had originally paid, and that was that. She didn't know what else to do with her day, so she returned to the college and collected a book from her room. It was a warmer day than she had seen in Winterhold before, so she decided to wrap up in a cloak and scarf and sit in the courtyard to read it. It was a dull book, and soon she found her mind wandering. Now that she was here with Ancano, she didn't know what to do. She had fully intended to kill him when she set out to reach Skyrim. Now, that didn't seem like an option. As much as she wanted the vile man dead, she didn't want to give up her place at the college; after only a month she felt like she was at home. It was nice to be amongst inquiring minds again, and she enjoyed her developing friendships with Savos and Mirabelle and Tolfdir. No, she would have to come up with some other punishment for Ancano.

Across the courtyard, Savos appeared, the Thalmor agent at his side. Both seemed unhappy about whatever it was they were discussing, but on seeing Nurenna both men smiled. She smiled back, pointedly making eye contact with Savos and not with Ancano, and closed her book.

"Good day, gentlemen," she said.

"Hello," Savos replied. "I'm sorry I didn't see you yesterday, I was… indisposed." They shared a knowing look, which Ancano interrupted.

"I was just telling our Arch Mage about those books you found in the library, the ones that are full of fallacies. _Rising Threat_."

"Ancano believes we should destroy them due to their 'slanderous nature'," Savos said, sounding highly unimpressed. Nurenna snorted.

"If you were to burn all the books with slanderous content we wouldn't have a library at all." She drummed her fingers on the cover of her own volume. "I'm sure that you could find some books with views that balance out those in _Rising Threat_, and let the students decide for themselves what to think. Or are you afraid they'll make the wrong choice?"

"I just think that the views expressed are so obviously the thoughts of a mad man," Ancano sniffed. "But that is a good idea, Nurenna. I will keep an eye out for something more… informative to add to the library's collection."

He excused himself with a shallow bow, heading towards the bridge into town.

"He's heading to Windhelm for a few days," Savos explained as he watched the man go. He turned to look at Nurenna, and laughed out loud at the delight on her face.

"No need to look too upset," he grinned. "Come on, it's far too cold to be out here."

They went inside where they bumped into Mirabelle, who was chastising one of the new intake of apprentices.

"How dare you so blatantly flaunt the rules of the college?" she shouted at J'zargo. "They are simple enough to understand: you must not do anything to endanger your fellow students. And yet you did just that! Onmund may be crippled for life due to your selfish, reckless idiocy, and if you had been less lucky he would be dead. He may die yet."

Savos frowned. "What is the meaning of this?"

Mirabelle turned to him, her face contorted with rage. "This fool of a Khajiit was practicing Destruction spells on Onmund, here, in the Hall of Attainment, unsupervised. The Nord boy's ward went down and he broke both his legs. He's lucky he didn't break his neck."

Nurenna had never seen Savos angry before, but it was something she never wanted to see again. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to hit the young Khajiit, but he didn't.

"Gather your things and leave. If you set foot in this college ever again you will not live to regret it."

The Khajiit shrank away from him, slinking through the doorway of his room. Nurenna turned to Mirabelle.

"Where is Onmund now?" she asked.

"In his room. Colette is with him, but she does not think she can fix his legs."

The Altmer hurried into Onmund's room, and the sight that greeted her was not a pretty one. The boy lay on his bed, pale faced and unconscious, his legs bending in several places where there should have been no bends. Savos appeared in the doorway behind her, and when he saw the boy he sucked a breath through his teeth. Colette looked up, and shook her head.

"I cannot fix this," she said, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I don't know if he will even wake."

Nurenna looked askance to Colette, kneeling down beside the boy's battered frame when the woman nodded. She gently opened his robes, revealing the mangled limbs below. She placed a hand gingerly on one of his legs, feeling out the fractures with her mind. The damage was catastrophic, but there was a slim chance she could set the boy walking again, albeit with a limp. If he even survived the shock his body was in, that was, and when she placed her hands on the boy's stomach she could sense ruptures and bleeding inside. It was more difficult to heal impact damage than wounds made by weapons; with a cut from a blade there was a process that could be followed, but this was widespread and there was no pattern to it.

"I need a knife," she said. Savos took a small one from his belt and handed it to her, and she quickly heated it with magic to clean the blade. With a single, deft movement she cut a tiny hole in the boy's belly and cupped her hands around it. She drew the blood from where it should not have been and out through the hole, while simultaneously healing the ruptures. It took well over fifteen minutes, and there was so much blood loss she didn't even know if her actions would make a difference. When she had done all she could for his internal organs, she moved onto Onmund's legs.

Focusing on the left leg, she moved it slowly until it was, at least on the surface, straight. The healing magic moved shards of bone back together, fixing them just enough that small movements wouldn't shatter them. It was best not to heal bones fully with magic, or they would simply shatter again. The key was holding them together and encouraging new growth. She had to use her hands to move the femur back together, feeling the two halves of the bone grating as they slid back into place. A small flow of magicka lightly sealed the break and reduced swelling in the surrounding tissue. She repeated this for the second leg, then stood, swaying gently. She had used more magicka than she should have and she could feel herself slipping away, but it had been to save a life and she didn't regret it. Even if he died now, she had tried her best.

"Soak a… a sponge in a potion of health and dribble it into his mouth. It should… help with the… with the shock."

Her knees folded, but by then she was already unconscious.

***

The next time she opened her eyes she was lying on her bed, the familiar taste of too much magicka filling her senses. She groaned and sat up on her elbows to find Mirabelle dozing in a chair at the foot of the bed. Very quietly, so as not to wake her, she sat up and rummaged through her shelves for a bottle of magicka potion. She was running low, and she didn't have the ingredients to make more, so she'd have to head into a city soon. Eventually, however, she found a little blue bottle and downed the contents. It was cool, the metallic taste of magic and a surprise hint of mint stilling the swirling of her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sat down again, waiting for the full effect. As she did so, Mirabelle stirred.

"Thank the Nine you're alright," she said. "We didn't know what happened, you just crumpled onto Savos. He made sure to have someone with you the whole time you were out."

"Oh, he didn't have to. How long was I out for this time?" Nurenna asked.

"Two days. Does this happen to you often?"

"Only if I forget to keep my magicka topped up, or if I use too much at once. I can't regenerate it, you see."

"You were born under the Atronach, then?" Mirabelle asked. Nurenna nodded.

"For some reason, instead of my spells simply stopping, I also faint. It's a terrible inconvenience."

Mirabelle smiled softly. "I can imagine. If you're fit to stand we should get something to eat."

They headed downstairs, into the spare bedroom that was set out as a dining room. There were bowls of fruit set out on the table, and Nurenna picked up an apple, unsure if she could stomach more so soon after waking. Mirabelle put a bread loaf, cold cut meat and some cherry tomatoes onto her plate, and they sat down opposite each other. At first they ate in silence as the dull ache in Nurenna's head receded, then they began to talk quietly.

"Is Onmund alright?" the Altmer asked.

"You worked a miracle. He woke a few hours after you healed him. Colette says he won't walk for a few months, but after that the worst he'll be left with is a limp, maybe not even that."

"And J'zargo?"

Mirabelle's face darkened. "Gone. Savos was right to send him away; such foolish disregard for his friends. I think he's still at the inn if you want to give him a piece of your mind."

Nurenna frowned. "Surely Savos was a little harsh. The Khajiit's little more than a child, I'm sure he's learned his lesson."

"If you think you can talk him round, go ahead." She finished her late lunch and cleared her plate away. "I have a lecture in a few minutes. You should tell Savos you're okay."

Nurenna finished her apple slowly, allowing it to go slightly brown before she gave up. It was a little oversweet, and the taste of the potion made it sickly. She wiped her sticky fingers on the edge of her robe and went to seek out Savos. She assumed he would be in his quarters, so she headed there first, climbing the steps slowly as she still felt a little dizzy.

"Savos?" she called when she reached the top of the stairs. There was no reply, so she peeked around the corner.

He was there, bent over his writing desk, quill scratching away.

"Savos," she said again. This time he looked up and saw her leaning around the doorway. As she walked towards him the corners of his eyes crinkled up in a smile, and he pushed out his chair.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, hesitating slightly before stepping in to give her a firm hug. She laughed into his shoulder, returning the hug before stepping away.

"I should have said something about that," she said. "I suffer from fainting spells if I use too much magicka at once - I'm sure Mirabelle would be able to fill you in if you're interested. I'm just sorry that I scared everyone."

"You certainly scared me. When you started slurring your words and then you just collapsed, I thought my heart had stopped!"

"I'm sure I wasn't slurring," she said haughtily.

"You were definitely slurring."

She snorted. "You're a dirty liar and I won't hear any more of it. Now fetch me some wine immediately."

He laughed and poured them each a glass.

"I'm glad I got to see you work," he said. "I wouldn't have bet five septims on the boy even waking - not that I'd bet on whether a man lived or died, of course - but not only did he wake, he'll walk again. It takes a great deal of skill to fix something like that."

"You flatter me," Nurenna replied, batting her eyelashes before chuckling into her glass. Then she grew serious. "I'm just sorry it took something so horrible to let you see."

"I could have skinned that Khajiit alive," Savos growled. "I almost regret that I didn't. Such a fool, to act as he did."

Nurenna saw her chance.

"He's young," she shrugged. "We all do stupid things when we are young, and we learn from them and it makes us better people. Perhaps you should give him a second chance?"

Savos narrowed his eyes at her.

"So that the next time he can kill someone? I think not."

"I think, after being dismissed, he will be a lot more obedient of the rules. He was the most promising of the intake and it would break my heart to waste such talent."

Savos continued to glare at her in silence for a long moment, then sighed.

"I admit, I remember doing… something similarly foolish in my youth. But I can't just let this go unpunished. If I allow him to return to his studies here, he will be banned from practical work for three months. In addition, he will spend the next six months helping Urag in the Arcanaeum. I think that is fair punishment."

Nurenna nodded. It was still a little harsh for her liking, but she wasn't going to push too hard. She got the feeling Savos was only agreeing to keep her happy, and if that was what it took to get the Khajiit back into the school, she wouldn't argue.


End file.
